


That's News to Me

by summerfrog08



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, F/M, I CHANGED STUFF, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Hermione Granger, Plot, Triwizard Tournament, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerfrog08/pseuds/summerfrog08
Summary: Harry becomes quite confused when he discovers something about his friends deep in the black lake.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Viktor Krum/Ron Weasley
Kudos: 31





	1. Dragons and Detention

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first post. I did change the timeline for the tournament tasks so the Yule Ball would be after the 2nd task.

Harry was going to be fine in the Triwizard Tournament, really.

“I’m going to be fine…” Harry told Luna after she had crept to the Gryffindor table, seeing him eating alone. Ron was still angry at Harry, accusing him of putting his name in the goblet of fire without telling him and always wanting to be the hero. On top of that, he was in detention for missing an assignment, and Hermione was in the library, working on a long assignment that had happened to be a great excuse not to finish Ron’s for him. 

Luna nibbled on a piece of toast and looked up at the windows of the great hall with a far-away look in her eyes. 

Harry shook his head, realizing he wasn’t so certain he would be fine. The first task was just a few short weeks away and he had no idea what he would be up against. Lucky for him, Hermione returned to the great hall at that moment, looking forcibly exhilarated. 

“Harry!” she gasped, “how are you feeling?”

Harry shook his head again and felt like his brain was spinning. He had two more classes left for the day and he couldn’t even remember what they were. “I’m going to be fine,” he said again. 

Hermione looked skeptical but then forced a cheery smile for a split second, before her face became stormy at the sight of Ron entering the great hall. Harry turned to follow her gaze and became even more frustrated to see Ron deliberately avoiding eye contact with him, looking up at the enchanted ceiling as if he’d never seen an enchanted ceiling before. The nerve! 

“Ron come off it!” Harry shouted, a little louder than he intended. He heard some barks of laughter from the Slytherin table. 

“Harry, let him be for now. I think—”

“Ron, you honestly think I’m that stupid?” 

Ron’s stride faltered as he walked closer to the table. He must have realized he was automatically walking toward his best friends who he currently won’t speak to. He checked his wrist- where there was no watch- and turned to leave from the great hall as if he had somewhere else to be.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You two need to get it together.”

“He can’t possibly think—”

“Harry I’ve got to go,” Hermione said, looking exhausted this time. She grabbed her books and left with a swish, leaving Harry with Luna again.  
Harry felt hollow. He had hoped he would get more encouragement from Hermione, or that she knew what to do next.

~~

"Dragons." 

A handwritten note found its way onto Harry’s open book in the library. It must have floated down when he bent over for another book, or maybe it had been charmed. Harry knew immediately that this wasn’t some first year messing around. He scooped up the note and was about to get up to leave the library when Hermione came in, probably searching for 6 to 20 more books for light reading. 

“Dragons. Dragons? No…” she looked panicked as she read it. He explained how he found it but she also seemed convinced that it was a real tip. She stood next to him, worry creasing her forehead and swirling a finger through a stray curl. Harry watched her, hoping she had something for him. He couldn't imagine how this could ever work in his favor. His mind was blank, until- 

“The sword of Gryffindor?” he asked, thinking of the basilisk second year. 

“Doubtful…” Hermione said, then she was gone in a flash, disappearing down one of the towering aisles of books. "I'm sure that wouldn't be allowed," he heard her mumble, "Or reliable that it would show up for you...Oh Harry you know what I meant!" she said as Harry gave her a pointed look. Of course he couldn't always count on the sword showing up when he needed it, but why can't she pretend he's the most Gryffindory-Gryffindor she's ever met? She returned with a staggering pile that she slammed down on the table, immediately opening one from the middle and sending the rest spilling over the pile. 

Cedric Diggory suddenly appeared near the table beside them and sputtered “Dragons—” through gasps of air. 

“We just found out” said Harry woefully. 

“How? Krum just told me now…”

~~

Ron was still nowhere to be seen for a few days. They shared classes but in between those times he was rarely at Gryffindor table or seen anywhere besides his bed in the common room. 

Hermione seemed not to care, but Harry was getting curious. One day he had seen him outside covered in sweat and some mud in his quidditch gear, which made Harry feel quite left out. They always practiced quidditch together. 

~~

“Accio!” Harry said a little to forcefully at a spare quill laying on a dusty desk. The desk upended and crashed to the floor. Hermione jumped away just in time before it landed on her toes. 

“Think of the quill!” she hissed. She didn’t bother picking up the desk but grabbed the quill and placed it on a different but equally as dusty desk.

“I really can’t do this” Harry sagged down into a chair. “What bloody good is flying 'round like a fool my broom going to do with a dragon?” 

Hermione walked toward him to kneel by his side and said “Better than stumbling around or getting stomped on, I’d say.” She said it with a joking tone, but she must have realized as Harry did that there was little left to joke about with the task being only a week away. She placed her hand on his, where he was clutching his wand. “You’re a great wizard, and we will figure this out.”

“You don’t have to do this for me” Harry said, frustrated that she was missing her favorite class for this. This boring spellwork that she could do with her eyes closed, in a dusty old classroom with her dusty old friend who couldn’t even pick up a quill. He stood up just as she did and her eyes fell down to her shoes. 

“Harry, I wasn’t there for the basilisk and I stayed back with Ron first year when I could’ve kept you from being hurt and I just can’t see you like that again. I just can’t. Ron might not give a rats ass anymore but I do.” 

“Ron?” was all Harry managed to say. 

“I didn’t mean that. He cares. It just feels like he doesn't lately, you know?” 

“Yeah. But about what you said—” 

“Forget it.” The look on her face was unreadable and she backed away as Harry stood up to continue the Accio training. After another hour, Harry was able to summon the quill to him and snatch it graciously, and had even managed to send a book flying in his direction on purpose. They would practice with a broomstick the next time the weather was nice enough to make the trip to the broom shed. 

~~

Ron sat with them that evening in the great hall. 

“Harry, I’m sorry” he said right away, face flushed and avoiding eye contact. Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, while Ginny scooted closer to butt into their conversation. 

“You think that’s going to save this?” Ginny lashed at him.

“It does,” Harry said. “Apology accepted. Now what did you get for the third question on this herbology homework?” He wanted this to be over as much as anyone else, and he knew a full “I’m sorry” from Ron was pretty rare so he wouldn’t ask for much more. Ron’s apologies usually entailed more gestures than words, like letting him borrow a quill or something like that after they’d had a spat. 

Hermione and Ginny exchanged a look and rolled their eyes, but both looked quite relieved. 

“Screechsnap” said Ron. “But Harry, what about the dragons?”

“Dragons?” said Ginny, dropping her fork of casserole. 

“How did you know?” said Hermione immediately. They hadn’t told anyone, and also everyone they talked to in classes didn’t know anything yet so they assumed it was all being kept quiet. 

“Wait, it wasn’t screechsnap, it’s flitterbloom…” Ron said, face red again as he pretended to dig through his notes. They all watched him, waiting for a response. Ginny picked her fork back up and chucked it across the table in his direction. “Okay. Okay!” he scooted it back toward her woefully. “Viktor told me.” 

Ginny’s fork remained still on the table, as did the air amongst the group of friends. 

“Well… how did he know?” asked Harry finally, a little confused about the dead air. It is pretty noble that Viktor had told Cedric, but why hadn’t he told Harry in the first place? 

Ron’s face was red again. “I don’t know.”

Ron must be embarrassed about getting secret info from his favorite quidditch player, Harry thought. Maybe Ron thought Harry would be upset with him. But then Harry thought about it more. Maybe he knew weeks ago and didn’t tell me. Maybe he should be upset with him. 

~~~~

Harry sat in the back of the tent amongst the other champions, waiting for his doom. At least, that’s what he told himself. Viktor sat alone on a stool in the opposite corner, avoiding Rita Skeeter expertly as she chatted away with Fleur, who was giving too much to the press entirely. Cedric stood with his arms crossed, peeking out a slit in the tent opening at the crowd. They all heard a loud roar and Cedric turned away from the opening, looking frightened. 

Harry heard a noise outside the tent, then a familiar voice said “ouch, Ron that was my foot!” Harry quickly glanced around, seeing nobody paying a lick of attention to him as a dragon is going haywire outside the tent, and slid through the canvas folds to the outside. He ran straight into Hermione, causing Ron to trip on them both.  
The three collapsed into a pile of laughter and Harry felt lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe it was the adrenaline. 

“Oh Harry…” Hermione said, once the dust had cleared. 

They remained on the ground, huddled a bit. Ron, never one for affection, sat beside them at a distance but sending Harry all the worry in the world with his eyes wide and glassy and his hands roving through his hair. Harry had let the whole Viktor thing go for now. They had more to worry about. Who cares when he found out about the dragons. It's time to face one now. 

They sat silently and Harry felt Hermione tensing up. He didn't know what to say. 

Suddenly she sat up straight and said “What if I could have showed you…what if we could have—” She began turning toward her bag as if to get out more books. 

“Hermione, it’s okay. We—I will be fine. And if I’m not, it’s my own damn fault” Harry said, pulling her hand away from her bag. Ron made a choking noise and Hermione looked away. He brushed some dirt out of her hair and said “thank you.” 

To Harry, she still looked just as concerned, but there was no time for that because the flaps of the tent flopped open and with a flash, Rita Skeeter had taken their picture. She began deliberately pressing Harry for questions about everything from his parents death to who made his robes to why his reckless tendencies led him to escape the tent. Harry was enraged but answered (avoided) her questions quickly so he could say goodbye to his friends.


	2. Prophet and Pens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry does his dragon fighting, Ron blunders about, and Hermione worries.

Harry was glad he was able to be the first to fight the dragon in the tournament. He didn’t think he could stand to wait much longer. As he stepped out into the bright sun, the other three champions watched from inside the tent. Viktor looked determined and ready for battle as usual, but Fleur and Cedric looked a little too confident, and he saw the fear flicker in their eyes as he had been called out to the stadium. Harry, however, couldn’t even pretend to be confident. 

He just needed to get his broom. Then… get the egg and get the hell out. 

The golden egg was out in the middle of a plain grassy field, with a huge dragon the size of two whomping willows swooping around, with a huge chain tied around its neck. One large rock formation stood tall in the opposite end of the round stadium. 

He looked around and saw nothing to help him in his battle. He gripped his wand tightly and walked farther out into the grass. From way above, the crowd cheered loudly at the sight of him. This seemed to arouse the dragon, who swooped very near Harry, sending him back a few steps just from the wind of its wings. 

It was insane, it was otherworldly, it was unfair. How was Harry supposed to come out on top through all this? 

Knowing it was a bad idea, he dashed toward the egg. Suddenly, he heard the dragon screech and felt like he was on fire. It turns out, he was. 

This was not a good start. Harry doused the fire with a quick aguamenti and rolled on the ground a bit, which the Slytherin fools probably enjoyed immensely, he told himself. Some of the grass around him was catching fire rapidly and it was becoming increasingly hot for a late October morning. 

Focus, Harry. 

He clutched his wand and dashed away from the dragon, standing as flat as he could against the inner wall of the stadium. He could see the very tip of Hogwarts castle from afar, and he was reminded of his lessons with Hermione: of the fire in her eyes as he had finally summoned his broomstick from the broomshed while all the way at Hagrid’s. 

“Accio broomstick!” he shouted, feeling a bit of that flame within himself now. Or maybe it was his thoroughly burnt clothing, hard to tell. 

The dragon moved closer again and he dived away. If only he could apparate. He dashed across the entire edge of the stadium until he reached the rocks. When would his broom come? Did he need to try again? He couldn’t die like this, shouting accio repeatedly because no broom would ever come because he’s such a bad wizard—

Suddenly he was on his Nimbus 2000. He did it. Well, the first part anyway. 

He did end up working out the “get the egg” and “getting the hell out” parts as well, but not after crashing into the stands, nearly breaking his leg, singeing his clothes and hair, breaking a rib, and slicing his back on the rocks after being thwacked by a dragon tail. No big deal. 

~~~~

Later, his friends found him lying motionless with the golden egg next to him in his bed in the hospital wing. Luna, Ginny, Ron, Hermion, Seamus, Dean, and Neville stayed silent and hanging around for moral support- against Madam Pomfrey’s best wishes- until Seamus finally asked, “So did you try to open it?” to the group, not knowing if Harry was even conscious. Hermione and Ginny gave him angry looks, but Dean and Ron looked curious too. Nobody touched the egg and Harry didn’t wake until all had returned to their dormitories besides Ron and Hermione. 

Hermione was asleep but Ron was awake, twiddling his thumbs with an open potions book on his lap. 

“You, studying?” Harry mumbled

“My grades are doomed” said Ron, closing the book. 

Harry chuckled, which hurt a little bit. His brain cleared and he remembered all his body had been through, but he felt his broken rib was well on the way to healing. A bottle of skele-grow was sitting on the table beside him, next to the golden egg. 

Hermione stirred awake and moved closer to Harry and Ron. Harry gave her a weak smile and a thumbs up, but Hermione seemed too worried to smile back. “I’m fine, Hermione,” he said. 

“But this is barbaric. You were almost killed-in front of everyone- for a silly tournament.” He could tell by Ron’s face that he had heard this speech before. “This shouldn’t be legal.”

“Dumbledore was very specific. I have to remain in the competition. Anyway, did you guys try the egg?”

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. Ron looked from her and then back to Harry and said “No, that can wait. Don’t worry about it now, mate.” and sat back in his chair, looking toward the windows, where they could hear rain gently hitting the panes. The hospital wing was a bit busy but none of the other patients or occupants seemed to mind Harry. He wondered if they set up wards for him of some sort so he wouldn’t be bothered by fans of the tournament, or worse- Rita Skeeter 

Soon Ron was asleep, even though it was only just after dinner, and Hermione was idly turning the pages of one of her latest books. 

After many turned pages she began mumbling. “We could have had you apparate, maybe. Or learned some more defensive spells against the fire. Why didn’t I think of the fire?” She didn’t even look up at him as she shut the book and put her head in her hands. “You could have been burned alive. It’s a dragon!” 

He reached out to her, which only hurt his ribs a little. All he could reach was a curl of her hair, so he tugged on it awkwardly. “Hey- I lived, though. If the next task involves fire, I’ll come straight to you. We- I can put myself in a bubble or something.” 

“The next task…” she tipped up her face and she looked like she had forgotten there was more. “Harry we’ve got to open that egg! We have to figure it out right now, I—”

She stood up and Harry grabbed her hand. He reached awkwardly to try to get her to sit back down but only managed to feel the cut on his back sting. “Ouch”

She turned to him quickly “What?” She was right next to him, staring at him like she had hurt him herself. 

“Hermione sit down!” 

Unlike Ron who continued to snooze away, Madam Pomfrey noticed the commotion and scurried over to inspect him. Madam Pomfrey returned with a bowl of murtlap essence and insisted he remove his shirt, turn over, and allow her to put more of it on the large gash across his upper back. 

Harry grumbled and said “Can’t it wait until morning?” 

“It needs to be applied every few hours, but honestly this should be the last time you need it since we applied some when you came in.” Harry blushed. He didn’t know why. He could’ve died and he’s embarrassed he was healed? “I was going to use dittany instead but that can have bad side effects and I can tell this is working just fine.” She took a step closer and pulled off the lid of the bowl. 

“I can do it…” Harry said, wanting her to leave. “Hermione, can you—” he tried to tug the corner of his shirt with his good arm. Hermione leaned over and helped him peel it off. Madam Pomfrey looked agitated and handed the bowl to Hermione as soon as her hands were free. They watched as she scuttled off to a patient who was dealing with some increasingly negative effects of some Weasley products gone awry. 

Harry flipped over and, without a word, Hermione began applying the essence to the wound.

“Oh Harry it looks so much better. I was worried you were going to bleed out.” 

“Hermione,” he said, voice muffled from his face being smashed against the pillow, “I didn’t bleed out, I didn’t burn alive, I didn’t break my neck. There’s still plenty of time for more fun.” 

She didn’t appreciate his joke, but her hands felt soft against his back and his shoulder blades. “I don’t know how much to use…” she said. He didn’t reply as he was starting to doze off again. Her hands paused on his shoulder and he leaned his smooshed face near her hand in thanks. 

He woke up late in the evening and flipped back over onto his back, which was almost completely healed. Ron was gone, but Hermione was leaning on one arm asleep, with the other arm resting on his bed beside him. She didn’t stir, and he found himself grabbing her hand. 

~~~~

Harry was awoke the next Sunday morning to the loudest screeching he had ever heard in his life. He covered his ears immediately and was glad to realize he hadn’t felt any pain in his ribs or back from the quick movement. His leg was healed up as well. 

Ron, Seamus, and Dean had come for an early visit and decided to inspect the egg. Harry couldn’t be mad, it’s only natural for them to be curious. However, he could be mad if he needed hearing aids after this. 

“Bloody hell” Ron shouted as he snapped shut the outer panels of the egg, stopping the screeching noise immediately. Seamus and Dean looked ashamed, and Ron looked sheepishly at Harry. 

“You just couldn’t wait, huh?” Harry laughed. They all sighed and sat down near him in some chairs they pulled up. Hermione must have returned to her dormitory at some point. 

“Guess there’s some sort of trick to getting the clue out of it, huh?” Seamus said. 

Ron held the egg in his hands, saying nothing. He passed it to Harry, who pushed himself up in bed. Upon inspection, the only noticeable feature of the egg was a metal floral applique at the top that swiveled to open and close the metal panels that form the egg shape. The inside had been a glittery blue burst of light, but Harry didn’t care to see that again for awhile. 

After a heated conversation about the dragon match (“Harry you almost DIED, it was so COOL though” “You were on FIRE… like literally- your clothes and broom were on fire, Harry…”), the boys left Harry to his thoughts. He didn’t have time to think of many, though, before Madam Pomfrey came to clear him for discharge. He grabbed the egg and walked up to the dormitories.

He was glad it was Sunday, since he had pretty much forgotten to write an entire essay for potions class due to the small issue of the looming dragon duel.  
Hermione was in the common room, also face first into some parchment amongst piles of books. She was wearing a thick green sweater with long sleeves that bunched up around her hands. Harry wondered if there was a hemming spell or if it helped keep her hands warm while she was writing. When he came in through the portrait hole, she rushed to him for a hug.

“Now do your homework!” she said, pulling away and plopping back down at the table. 

He headed up to the bedrooms and spent some time arranging the golden egg in his trunk. He then secured it shut with a muggle lock Arthur Weasley had lent him before heading back to the common room. 

“Where’s Ron?”

“Don’t know. Thought he would be in the hospital wing with you.” 

“He left probably a half hour ago” Harry said as he opened his book across from Hermione. 

“Who knows” she said dazedly. “But what about the egg?” she said, suddenly alert, sitting up straight, with eyes locked on Harry. “Did you figure out any clues or anything? You’ve got just three weeks to figure it out…”

“Nope. Ron opened it and it screeched loud enough to wake the ghosts”

Hermione rolled her eyes at that but didn’t return to her parchment. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it twice. This was a rare occurrence, so Harry paused before putting down his books, waiting. 

She finally closed her mouth in a thin line, face unreadable, and pulled out the Daily Prophet. Harry saw a flash of his own face on the front page and snatched it from her. 

“Potter’s Triwizard Love Triangle” was plastered in huge wavering letters above the large photo Rita Skeeter had taken of Harry, Ron, and Hermione outside the tent. 

“Oh great, in the Sunday paper…” he said. He looked closer and it turned out the photo made it quite convincing. Harry and Hermione were settled together in the after-fall embrace, with Harry looking into Hermione’s eyes. One of his hands was placed gently near her cheek where he was brushing away a stray hair, and the other was holding her hand after pulling her away from her books. Harry’s chest had a funny tight feeling as he saw Ron sitting to the side, with his face just on the edge of the frame, looking angrily at the photographer. “Oh,” was all Harry could say. To anyone who wasn’t there, it was… something. To anyone who was there, well… it might have been something. 

He didn’t feel embarrassed, and Hermione’s face remained flat. He folded the paper and sat down to start his essay, borrowing ink from Hermione and asking her how to spell wiggenweld potion at least three times. 

~~~~

That morning study session seemed to start a new routine for the pair in the evenings. Ron seemed to be scarce lately, often claiming extra detentions or appointments with teachers. Sometimes he would come in and go straight to bed, not seeming to want to talk too much. Harry didn’t understand what had changed since he was so interested in mending things since he sat with them in the great hall and visited Harry in the hospital wing. He wanted to ask him, but Ron continuously evaded questions and acted like everything was normal. He wondered if it was the paper. 

Either way, late in the evenings after others in the common room had settled quietly into the couches by the fireplace or gone up to bed, Harry and Hermione sat at the table by the window with parchment, quills, and books. They always intended to finish their essays and assignments and readings, but usually ended up talking about the golden egg, random spells Hermione wants Harry to know “just in case”, or anything else to distract the both of them from the chaos that was their lives. 

“I miss pens,” Harry said, dropping his quill in consternation as a large splat of ink ruined a section of his notes. “Never thought I’d miss anything about the Dursley’s, but I miss pens.” 

“Me too. I have so many,” Hermione said, looking quite miserably at her own quill. “My parents bought me a ton of them first year and every year since when they realized how much writing and note-taking I do. Those nice colored gel ones too. I have never brought them here, though.”

Harry knew why. Malfoy reminded her of her muggle upbringing often enough without her bringing muggle items to school, no matter how much more practical they are. She didn’t want any more reason to be harassed. 

“If I survive this, we use pens?”

“Harry-“ 

“Sorry. Fine, no pens…”

“No Harry! I meant about the tournament; you can’t just say that!”

“If you say so, but I’m the boy who LIVED” he smirked and rolled his eyes to the ceiling, knowing jokes like this were keeping him afloat. 

Suddenly he really wished they had pens, when her quill was hurled toward his face, leaving a big dark ink smudge across his cheek. They stifled their laughter into their hands as Harry tried to rub it away. 

Harry leaned over to pick up the discarded quill, and when he sat back up to hand it over the desk to her there were tears in her eyes. He dropped his hand to rest on his parchment.

She took a big steady breath in and leaned across the desk to swipe away the rest of the ink. The tears didn’t fall. Her hand cupped his cheek for a second and he felt so cared for, so at home in her touch and in her eyes. 

“You better be,” she said, dropping her hand to rest on his which was still holding her quill. 

~~~~~~


End file.
